


No Feeling Is Final

by MauveCat



Series: Family Snapshots [4]
Category: Endless Summer (Visual Novel)
Genre: Family Feels, Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:28:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24181339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MauveCat/pseuds/MauveCat
Summary: Estela begins to open up
Series: Family Snapshots [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1729411
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	No Feeling Is Final

“Here you are.” Michelle sets my cake and coffee in front of me and slides into the other chair. “I hope they got our orders right – they don't have the best track record, but it's close to my apartment and I've gotten used to coming here.”

“I'm sure it'll be fine.” Michelle raises a perfectly groomed eyebrow when she sees me dump two packets of sugar in my coffee before I've tasted it. She smooths her hair back, even though the French twist already looks flawless to me. Sitting across from her, I feel... well, if not precisely unkempt, definitely less put together than she is. I suppose there's nothing new about that. “Thanks for meeting me on such short notice. I probably should have called before I left San Trobida, or at least when I was in New York.” 

She sips at her coffee, and when she lowers the cup there's not a trace of lipstick on the rim. I wish I knew how she does that. “Don't be silly, Estela. I'm just happy to see you. Quinn and I were both excited to see your text. How was New York?”

I shrug and look around the coffee shop. We managed to hit it at a good time; there are only a few other people here and they're seated on the other side of the room. The two baristas on duty are taking advantage of the lull to lounge behind the counter, gossiping and scrolling through their phones. It's decorated like almost every other coffee shop I've ever been in; carefully mismatched chairs, fliers advertising local events pinned to the corkboards near the door, impersonally encouraging phrases scrawled in overly fancy script on wooden plaques on the walls. The morning rush has thinned out and we should have time to talk before the lunch crowd shows up. “It was fine. I didn't get to see much of it – I flew in, I signed what I needed to sign, and I left. Well, I wanted to leave. Aleister made me promise to come back down for the weekend so I can see Grace again, but I thought I'd take the train and see you and Quinn before then.”

“We're both glad you want to see us, but I'm sorry you missed Quinn. I know you said she doesn't have to, but she meant it – she'd be happy to leave Colorado a few days early if you like.”

“No, no, it's fine. It's not like I gave you two much warning, and I'm glad she's visiting her father.” I stare into my cup. I'd rather not talk about fathers, so I rush on. “Am I cutting into your class time?”

“Not at all. I was already on track for early graduation and I just need a few more credits to catch up on the semester I missed, so I'm only taking two classes this summer – I don't have anything scheduled until Thursday. Are you going to stop by Hartfeld while you're here?”

“I suppose I should.” I'm not feeling very enthusiastic about it, but I know I have to look into finishing my degree. I only have one year left, and I hate the thought of leaving something unfinished.

Michelle nibbles at her scone. “I'd be happy to go with you. I need to drop off a book at the library anyway – it's been in my purse all week but I keep forgetting. How is Aleister doing?”

“Quite well, actually.” I smile. I've been trying to get used to the idea of having a brother; it's new, and it's strange, and it's surprisingly comforting. In spite of everything that should separate us, Aleister and I adjusted to our new relationship much more easily than I think any of us expected. “He's got so many projects going that I don't know how he's staying on top of everything. Did you see the pictures he sent out?”

“Mmhmm.” She returns my smile. “It's good to see the buildings on La Huerta start to come down and I'm sure it's a relief for the Vaanti. Did you ask to run one of the bulldozers?” I blush, and her smile turns into a grin. “Oh my God. I was joking but you totally did, didn't you?” She holds up her hand and without thinking, I give her a high five.

Relaxing a little, I go on. “Aleister is starting to restructure Rourke International. He's already found dozens of shady projects and shut them down, and I think heads are rolling.”

“Good.” I certainly can't blame Michelle for the satisfied expression that crosses her face. I know it's not because she's happy that people are losing their jobs. Like all of us who escaped La Huerta, she's well aware of how much evil Everett Rourke was capable of. Who knows how deep the rot goes in his organization? She looks at me carefully and then asks, “And... has there been any movement on the legal situation?”

“Not as much as I'd like.” I look down at my piece of cake. I take time to peel off a bit of frosting and taste it before I continue. “Rourke fired his entire legal team, so the judge says everything is on hold until the new firm gets up to speed.”

“Son of a _bitch_.” Michelle looks as angry as my brother and I were when we got the news. “Can he do that?”

“He's within his rights. He's supposed to have a competency hearing, though, so that could change. Who knows? At least he's using his own personal bank account to pay his lawyers. You heard that he's been completely shut out of the organization, right?” Michelle nods. “He's not a pauper, not by any means, but I think he was counting on using RI's resources to fund his defense. Other than that, I think the courts are going to decide to have the trial in New York. Since that's where the headquarters are located, the prosecutors are making the case that everything originated there.”

Michelle nods. “I suppose that makes sense. Are they keeping you and Aleister in the loop?”

“Once again, not as much as I'd like but I can't say I'm surprised.” I look around. Even though no one is within listening distance, I lower my voice. “Did you know that IRIS survived?”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Really? I thought her drones were destroyed when....” She trails off.

I know what she means, and I'm grateful she didn't complete her thought. “It seems that there were a few drones tucked away, and Rourke had backup files all over the place. Aleister was able to get her started again. I don't know if she's going to be up to her previous level but we think she might be able to infiltrate the prosecution's computers to keep us updated. I know that's not precisely legal – ” Michelle snorts. “All right. It's extremely illegal. But knowing what Rourke is capable of, I think we need to protect ourselves.”

“Good. Will you keep all of us up to date on it?”

“Of course.” I eat a bit more of my cake. “I'm... sorry that I haven't been in touch.”

Michelle waves her hand. “That's all right,” she says airily. “You know that I never hold a grudge.” She shrugs when I give her a look. “All right, I do. I'm working on it.”

I pick up my coffee and drink a bit, then add another packet of sugar. “I was talking to Zahra and I got the impression that most of you want me to check in more often.”

“That's right.” Michelle leans back in her chair. “Because even though you've tried to be subtle about it, we've all noticed you're avoiding us.”

“Is this an intervention, then?”

“Do you need one?” She lifts her hand in apology. “No, sorry, even by my standards that was snotty. Look, Estela, we're all worried about you.”

I play with my coffee spoon rather than looking at her. “I know you are. And... I appreciate it.”

“Gee, thanks,” Michelle drawls with gentle mockery. In spite of myself, I smile. There was a time when I would have flown into a rage at a response like that. On a good day, I might have just stalked off. There was a time when no one would have looked at my scars and my anger and dared to make a joke at my expense. But things are different now. I'm different now. I suppose it's time to start acting like it.

With a sigh, I look directly at her. “I'm not doing well.” Michelle nods and waits. “I'm barely sleeping most nights. Sometimes I get through an entire day and I couldn't begin to tell you a single thing that I did.” I grimace at my coffee and chocolate cake. “I'm living on caffeine and sweets, and I never even liked sugary things before. Tio Nicolas knows something happened to me on La Huerta besides finding Mama's killer. He hasn't pushed me on it but he wants me to talk to someone. Who am I supposed to talk to about this?” I take a gulp of my coffee to force back a lump of tears. “Ordinary therapy is out. How do I explain that I'm grieving for my wife, who by the way didn't actually exist?”

“She did, though... she _did_ ,” Michelle says fiercely. “And you can talk to all of us, Estela. We were all there – and we're still here.”

I accept the tissue she gives me. How many years has it been since I voluntarily cried in front of someone? “I know you are. And I... I want to talk to you – to all of you, to any of you. But every time I try to talk about – about Taylor, I feel myself freezing up.” I take a deep breath. “Maybe I'm afraid that I'd be giving my memories of her away if I share them. And memories are all I'll ever have.”

“Oh, sweetie.” Michelle reaches across the table and takes my hand. I let her... No. I don't just allow the touch. I grab on and squeeze her hand as hard as I can without hurting her. 

Somehow, I manage to laugh. “You know, Grace is a hugger. You wouldn't think someone so tiny – or so shy! – could hold on that tight, but she does. I think she's teaching Aleister how to do it because every time we haven't seen each other in more than a few days, he –” I make a weak gesture. “He just comes right in. He was a little awkward and uncomfortable at first but now, it comes naturally. It doesn't for me, but I'm trying. And I'm... I'm happy for him, and for Grace. I'm glad they found love and kept it.” My breathing grows ragged. “But Michelle... it's so hard to see them being so much in love.”

She passes me another tissue and keeps one for herself. “I know.” She sniffs hard. 

“You're going to ruin your makeup.”

“I'll redo it.” She gives me a watery smile. “I never leave the house without a full supply.”

I let go of her hand so I can blow my nose properly. “You've heard that they want to build a big house on La Huerta?” She nods. “There'll be plenty of room for all of us. Sometimes I think I should go back there for good. Varyyn told me that I'm welcome to stay any time I want, for as long as I want. He says as far as the Vaanti are concerned, we all have a home there.”

Michelle nods. “I know. We're all planning to go back in June. Jake says if we can get our schedules synced up, he'll fly everyone down together in his plane. It'll be kind of a reunion.”

I wipe at my eyes. “Not entirely. Diego's back there already so he won't have to fly down. He's staying in Elyys'tel, you know.” Besides, even not counting Diego, there'll be someone else missing. Once again, Michelle waits for me to go on. “I... I can't talk to him, but we've been texting. He says he'll start traveling back and forth once he and Varyyn have their year and a day – ” My voice cracks. “But La Huerta is his home now.”

“Do you think...?”

“Do I think it could be mine?” I shrug and ball the tissues in my fist. “I... want it to be. I want to walk where Taylor walked, and I want to imagine that she's there with me. But then I'd turn around and I'd be alone, and it would be –” I need almost a minute before I can talk again. “I... don't think I can be around Diego and Varyyn right now. Not for long, anyway. It's like being with Grace and Aleister. I don't want to resent them for being together and in love, but... I do resent them. It reminds me of everything I could have had, everything I should have had, and it hurts.”

Michelle dabs at her eyes. “Estela, I wish – we all wish we could say or do something to make this easier for you.” 

“I know. You've all been trying and I don't want you to think I haven't noticed, or that I don't appreciate it. Craig sends me stupid memes and videos at least once a day, and you already know that Quinn made me promise to video chat every week, and Raj offered to sign me up for meal kit deliveries any time I want. I've never had this many people reaching out to me. After Mama left, it was just me and Tio Nicolas. This is all... new.” I shrug. “I know I don't deserve all of –”

“You stop right there!” Glowering, Michelle points a finger at me. “This is because we all love each other. It's not about deserving, it's about – it's about _us_.” She's so angry that she's stuttering. “What we all went through changed all of us. None of us would have made it off that damn island if we didn't have each other. And Taylor –” She blinks hard but keeps going. “She gave up everything to save all of us, all of this.” She waves her hand at the people sitting a few tables away, doing their best to pretend they don't see us both crying, and at the passersby I can see through the window. “I can't begin to imagine how agonizing that choice must have been. But we can see how agonizing it is for you, so we're going to do everything we can to help you through this, whether you like it or not.”

Reaching out, I give her hand another squeeze. “So there?”

She laughs shakily. “Yeah. So there.” She fumbles in her purse and pulls out a mirror and a small bag. “Do you mind?”

I can't help but smile. “Go ahead. It's fine.” She nods and in a matter of minutes, using just a few cotton swabs and two small palettes, her makeup is once again flawless. It would have taken me the better part of an afternoon to do half as well. “You're an artist, you know that?”

“We all have our armor,” she replies carelessly, but her eyes are soft and I know she appreciates the compliment.

“Michelle, thank you. For the coffee, for meeting with me, for....” I look away for a moment. “For being there for me. That goes for all of you.”

She returns my smile. “I'll pass it on. Did you want to head over to Hartfeld now?”

“No, I think I should go back to my hotel room and change. Believe it or not, I do own clothes besides track pants and hoodies.” She puts a hand to her chest and gives me an expression of exaggerated astonishment. “Shocking, I know. I could be at your apartment in... is one o'clock all right?”

“Perfect. But you know that you're welcome to stay at my place rather than a hotel, right? I've got Furball while Quinn is traveling and the fuzzy little jerk would love to see you.”

“I know, but....” I feel my face growing warm. “Um, those papers I signed in New York? Well, I'm sort of on the board of RI now and it turns out that I have an expense account. My hotel room is... pretty nice. There's a complementary spa package if you'd like to swing by after Hartfeld. According to the brochure, seaweed is involved somehow.”

Her eyes widen in delight. “Oh, Estela, I think you're my new best friend. Don't tell Quinn.”

I laugh as I stand and sling my purse over my shoulder. “It'll be our secret.” We say our goodbyes and I leave the coffee shop. As I walk down the city streets, I feel lighter than I have in a long time – years, if I'm honest with myself. I don't expect the feeling to last long, so I intend to enjoy it. Other than that brief supernova of pure happiness that I felt with Taylor, there's no way to deny that I've spent so much of my life driven by anger and revenge. So if I don't have anger to motivate me, and if I don't have love, what do I have?

Stopping in front of a store window, I look at the mannequins. The dresses they display are light and summery and I can't imagine myself wearing anything like that. Maybe it's a sign that this might be exactly what I need?

My attention is caught by the reflection of a man ambling down the sidewalk. He comes to a stop a few feet behind me. Denim jacket, red hair in a buzz cut. Is he... looking at me? 

No. He's looking at my purse and scanning the people nearby, planning his escape route. He's mistaken me for prey. With a sigh, I straighten my spine, turn, and meet his eyes. He takes in my body language and the scar curving down my face, and he smoothly changes direction to look for another victim. I almost let him go, but then I see a police officer nearby. That's probably a sign as well, so I sidle up to the officer and murmur a description of the potential purse snatcher. He spots the man and watches him for a few seconds; then he nods his thanks to me and speaks quietly into his radio.

I continue on my way to the hotel, deep in thought. I've tried to avoid thinking about going back to school and I think I know why: because once I have my degree, I'll need to decide what to do with it. Once I decide that, I'll need to make more decisions and the next thing I know, I'll be in danger of... well, having a life.

When I enrolled in Hartfeld, my goal was to go to school in the United States so I could get closer to Rourke and discover the truth of my mother's death. I chose my major almost at random. But now that I've accomplished my mission, what comes next? I never entirely expected to survive my quest for vengeance. I certainly never expected to fall in love with Taylor. Once I loved her, I never expected to lose her. 

But I did and now, here I am. I suppose I got the revenge I was seeking. My mother's killer is dead but not by my hands. Lila gave up her life so my friends and I could go free. With her last actions, she sought her own redemption. She chose the ending of her own story.

Could I do the same?

I find myself in a situation I could never have anticipated. I have a small fortune at my disposal, a small makeshift family, and a heart that's been shattered to pieces like the crystals that used to be scattered all over La Huerta. How can I find a way through this? It seems impossible.

But... Taylor was an impossibility too, right? After all, she wasn't born like we were – she never lost her baby teeth, or went to school, or had her first period in the middle of gym class. If she was born at all, she was created out of all of us as an antidote to all the pain we carried inside of us. Somehow, all of that pain and longing and loneliness combined with the unkown power lurking beneath La Huerta, and it turned into Taylor.

All of that was impossible, but it happened. It all happened... she happened. 

We all talked with her, laughed with her, fought with her, cried with her. She was real. She played with us and inspired us and loved us. I think every one of us, in the deepest crevices of our hearts, felt that we didn't deserve love – not even from ourselves, and certainly not from anyone else. Maybe the force that created her understood that, but we didn't. And I don't think Taylor understood that either. When she came into existence, she looked at us and she loved us. What could we do but love her in return? 

And I... I loved her. For the first time in my life, I loved someone with all my heart. I opened up completely to her. I didn't just believe in the possibility of a future, I wanted that future and I was fighting for something besides vengeance. And if Taylor was real, then I need to believe that her love for me was as real as mine for her. After all, I saw so many impossible things on La Huerta, and they were all undeniably true. 

I take a deep breath as my hotel comes into view. I also thought it was impossible that I'd ever be able to reveal the depth of my grief to any of my friends, but I just did it and I survived the experience. And if all those impossible things have turned out to be true, to be possible,, maybe it's not impossible that somehow, someday, Taylor might come back.  
.  
.  
.

_How should we be able to forget those ancient myths that are at the beginning of all peoples, the myths about dragons that at the last moment turn into princesses; perhaps all the dragons of our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us once beautiful and brave. Perhaps everything terrible is in its deepest being something helpless that wants help from us._

__

_.... You must think that something is happening with you, that life has not forgotten you, that it holds you in its hand; it will not let you fall. Why do you want to shut out of your life any uneasiness, any miseries, or any depressions? For after all, you do not know what work these conditions are doing inside you. – Rainer Maria Rilke, excerpt from “Letters To A Young Poet.”_

  
_Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.  
Just keep going. No feeling is final -Rilke, “Go To The Limits Of Your Longing.” _


End file.
